


Cursed

by cold_feets



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Gen, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-03
Updated: 2011-12-16
Packaged: 2017-10-25 15:56:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/272085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cold_feets/pseuds/cold_feets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of ficlets of Downton Abbey as they face the zombocalypse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Daisy & Mrs. Patmore

**Author's Note:**

> You will never stop me from writing zombie fic for every fandom ever. I have a lot of feelings about everyone at Downton fighting the undead, so there may be more of this to come.

The first time one gets in the house, it's through the pantry. Daisy is fetching rice for Mrs. Patmore when she hears someone shuffling around.

"Thomas? Is that you?"

There's no answer, but as her eyes adjust to the dim light, she sees the figure lurking in the corner.

"Stop that," Daisy tells him. "If Mrs. Patmore catches you smoking down here--"

There's a low growl that is definitely not Thomas, and Daisy clutches the sack of rice to her chest. "Who's there? You shouldn't be playing tricks!"

She takes a deep breath and steps a bit further into the pantry. Whoever it is turns around, and it's not a who, not anymore, not with a face like that, gaunt and ragged, flesh torn and rotting.

Daisy yelps and drops the sack of rice as the creature reaches out towards her, its gnarled fingers grasping at her apron. She stumbles back into one of the shelves.

"For heaven's sake, Daisy! You didn't have to grow it yourself!" Mrs. Patmore calls as she comes down the stairs.

Daisy shrieks as the thing lunges for her again. She's backed into a corner now. "Mrs. Patmore, help!"

Mrs. Patmore takes one look at the two of them and snatches a broom from the corner.

"You leave her alone, you beast!" Mrs. Patmore yells, and she whacks the thing hard on the back with the broom.

It turns slowly, and Mrs. Patmore's eyes go wide as she sees its face.

"Come away, Daisy," she says quietly, broom still raised and at the ready. Daisy whimpers and shakes her head. The thing is watching Mrs. Patmore, but it's still barely a foot away from Daisy, blocking her path to the doorway.

"It's all right," Mrs. Patmore assures her. "You just be quick about it, and you'll be fine."

Mrs. Patmore jabs the brooms in the thing's face, and it swipes at the bristles with a grunt. Daisy shuts her eyes, says a quick prayer, and ducks under its arms towards the door, hiding behind Mrs. Patmore.

"That's a good girl," Mrs. Patmore tells her, never taking her eyes off the creature. "Now back up the stairs, nice and slow. There we go."

The thing stumbles toward them a few steps as they back up the stairs, but they reach the landing, slam the door shut, and bolt it behind them.

Mrs. Patmore leans back against the door heavily, all the calm drained from her as she presses a shaking hand to her chest. "Go and find Mr. Carson."


	2. Edith & Branson

Edith braces herself for the kick of the rifle against her shoulder, breathes out slowly, and squeezes the trigger. Across the lawn, the creature goes rigid as the bullet hits and then falls to the ground.

Beside her, Branson stares with raised eyebrows. "Good shot."

"Thank you," she says, lowering the rifle.

She is, much to everyone's surprise, quite a good shot. As good as the men, and often better. She's steady (unlike Carson) and patient (unlike Thomas). She hears things the others don't: the scrape of heavy, uncoordinated limbs against the grass, the creak of joints like rusty hinges, the stillness of the birds.

"They're getting bolder," she says, scanning the edge of the property for movement.

Branson nods. "Thomas and I noticed that last night, milady. I think they're making their way out of the village. Done all they could there."

Which is simply a polite way of saying " _eaten_ all they could" because they've all seen by now that these creatures do, seen them tear people apart as if they were paper, seen them kill people only for those people to rise again and stagger off in search of others.

The entire village. Gone. And who knows how far it stretches, how far the creatures have been able to travel. Perhaps the whole of England is overrun, and it's just Downton, still standing, still waiting for help that will never come.

Edith brushes her hair out of her eyes and shoulders her rifle again. "We'd best be ready for them, then."


End file.
